The Great War
by Suneater
Summary: It's 1918 and the world is at war. WWI is being fought and Percy answers the call to fight the Germans but what will happen to Annabeth when he goes off to fight? What will happen to the boy she cares about during his time in the trenches? Will Percy even make it home? AU. Percy/Annabeth. Rated T for language and theme.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an idea for a story I have been playing with. Give it a read and tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HoO. **

**However I do own the plot.**

**EDIT: I added in a brief history of WWI at the start of Ch 3. IT IS VERY BASIC so if you want to learn more I recommend checking out actual websites or books about the war. **

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_ April 17, 1918_

_Dear Annabeth,_

_ I know it has been some time since I was able to write you and I do apologize. We have been hauled from town to town and stayed only one night in each new encampment. When we were finally given a days rest while it was decided where we would go I did write to you but that letter seems to have been lost while on the march. _

_ While I say we were on the march there has actually been very little of that, instead they have continued to load us into large trucks and driven us across the French country side. I think you would have enjoyed the views and the scenery we have passed. I could not tell you the names of any important structures, should we have passed any, nor if they would have been of any real interest to you. For the life of me I still cannot understand what you see in one building or another. _

_ We have arrived at our positions outside a small town in northern France but I cannot pronounce the name of it let alone spell it out on paper. This is to the dismay of a Frenchmen by the name of Nico di Angelo, from the French 167th that we have been placed with. They are to train us in what has been translated to 'proper battle techniques'. All they have trained us to do so far is to keep our heads inside the trenches and keep our socks dry if possible. _

_ They are an odd group to say the least. They joke and laugh but much of their behavior is crude and best not described in the type of company this letter is addressed to. Nico seems like a good fellow but he is tended to be moody and bouts of dark behavior. He seems younger than us and I fear what fighting at such a young age has done to him. _

_ I know you do not approve of my fighting in this war and I am sorry that my presence here brings you grief. Yet I feel that it is my duty and I must follow what my instincts tell me. Thank you for accepting my letters and continuing our correspondence. Yes, I did learn that from you. _

_ You will be happy to hear Grover has been placed in command of one of the other squads of the 12th Co. 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines. He is, in fact, in the same platoon as I. Our company commander is a man by the name of Jason Grace. I wonder if he is of any relation to Thalia. I doubt it since he has said he grew up some where in California. He seems a good enough man, and while I do not know his age I believe him to be a year or two younger than me. What I know is that he is a career soldier and I am happy to have him as my commanding officer. _

_ The Frenchmen are attempting to teach us more and get us some combat experience so I must go. I will try and write my mother soon but I hope that you will give her my love. Take care, Annabeth._

_Your friend,_

_Percy _

Annabeth sighed and pushed a few loose strands of her hair out of her way, attempting to corral them behind her ear. She looked over at the picture Percy had been sweet enough to take for her and his mother before he left. He was dressed in his uniform and, for once in his life, looked presentable. His hair was cut short at the sides but still had length at the top. He wore his hat, cover he had called it, and stood at attention. If not for his wicked grin you would have believed him a respectable sergeant of the United States Marine Corps.

She looked out the window of her father's New York apartment. They were calling this the Great War. That it would be the last war ever fought. Some where deep down Annabeth knew that was folly. That man would forever have petty squabbles and try and take from one another. She knew that Percy would not be home soon as everyone said. Annabeth sighed again before rereading the letter for the fifth time that day.

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**A/N: The idea for this is that Percy is a Marine fighting in World War I.**

**Please, please, please review and let me know what you think. **

**Thank you. **


	2. Chapter 2: Realized loss

_May 20, 1918_

_Dear Annabeth,_

_It has been a month in the trenches and everything is fine. The war is honestly rather boring. I spend most of my time talking with Grover or my new friend Nico. He has told me about his family and life here in France. He has a sister our age and his home town is not far from our lines. I have tried to talk to him about why he is in the war especially since he is so young. He simply told me it is what was expected of him, what is expected of all of us. That we are really just the pawns of the gods. I asked about him to some of the other Frenchmen and they informed me he lost his mother in the war. I think there is more in his past then he lets onto. _

_There is almost nothing for us to do here. We have to spend the day in the trenches and away from the German snipers. As long as we keep our heads down and don't do anything stupid (rather difficult for me I know) we are perfectly fine. At night they do their best to scare us and fire shells at our lines but they are rarely accurate and we are too well protected. I'm not surprised this war has dragged on this long, with the way they fight they act like they don't want it to end. _

_At night the Frenchmen try and intimidate us Americans and tell us ghost stories of the fighting. They speak of spirits that haunt no-man's-land and clouds of chemical gas that the Germans have used. I never give hear to what they are saying. They have spent too much time away from home. _

_We also spend time drilling and practicing what skills we can in the tight space of our positions. One of the Frenchmen asked if we were any good 'in a real fight' and pointed to our bayonets. Several other Marines set up a hand-to-hand competition and Lieutenant Grace forced me into it. After having to fight nearly every man in our company and the French 167th I was the undefeated champion. Now the Company jokes that they only need to get me into the German lines and I'll win us the war. I hope it'll be that easy._

_I keep wondering how you are. Things must be peaceful not having me around I guess. I hope you are still talking with your father. I'm glad to hear that he wrote you and proud of you for responding. Write him again, I know you haven't since that last letter. Give him a chance, maybe go visit him. He loves you Annabeth and you need someone to look after you, even if you don't want to admit it. _

_There are rumors of us being sent into action some time soon. I don't know where we will be sent or if it will just end up being more sitting in the mud but I hope not. I might as well do something if I came all the way out here. I'll write you and tell you what I can as soon as I find out. I also promise I'll stay safe (I know you were going to write that)._

_I hope everything is well, please write me soon. Your letters help the boredom more than anything else and I have to admit I miss talking to you. I'll be writing my mother a letter but I hope that you'll tell her I love her and miss her. Especially her cooking, I even miss your cooking as sad as that sounds. I hope to get a letter from you soon._

_Take care,_

_Percy _

Annabeth shook her head and tried not to think about Percy charging the German lines by himself, knife in hand. Percy was reckless and she knew he would do anything necessary to protect his friends and that made her worry. She read back over the letter and tried to hear his confident voice. If he was saying that everything was fine then she should believe him, he was an idiot at times but he never lied to her.

None of it kept the knot of worry in the pit of her stomach from finally blooming into a weed that wrapped its vines around her lungs. Percy was still joking and bragging about his skills but she knew he was in danger. She read the lists the news papers printed every day, all the men who wouldn't be coming home. She didn't want her friend to be one of those names.

It was the nights of cold sweat and the days thinking about where he was, wondering what he was doing, the stack of letters she wrote but never sent, the words of confession that cause her to crumple up the paper, that brought questions of what he was to her mind.

That last image of him never left her mind. His hand on hers and the smell of his skin, the wool of his uniform on her neck, the strength of his arm around her shoulders, these sensations warmed her at night.

They also filled the waking hours with dread.

Annabeth pulled a sheet of paper out and grabbed her fountain pen, she took some time to think out her letter and began to write.

She focused on filling him in. Telling him how her mother and his soon to be step father were doing. What she was doing, how she was doing. The little changes of the neighborhood.

She left out her questions. She never asked what they were, what she was to him, what these letters meant when he wouldn't write the other girls that asked.

She gave in to her own over bearing concern and worry and skirted the line of decency with the threat of what would happen to him if he charged German lines by himself, she also put in a warning to his commanding officer.

That was the only leeway she gave herself in that letter. The only time she let herself open up, even if just a little. She wouldn't put the rest on him. Wouldn't force him to read her admittance of deepening concern on piece of paper in some muddy hole in the ground in a field in France. No, she would write that in another letter. She would fill it's blank nakedness with her drabbles and babblings and then store it away. Maybe when he came home, maybe if he came home to her she would let him read it. She doubted it, most likely she would burn it.

Before she sealed the letter she stopped and thought it through. Ran through the implications and decided it could be done in a tactful manner. She still had time to do it. She took the letter with her, if she didn't leave it in the post as soon as the gift was inside the envelope she doubted it would ever make it to him. Far too great a chance of thinking over it too long.

Just before she dropped it in that steel box she lifted it to her lips and gave it a soft kiss, the one she should have given it's reader those months ago.

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**A/N: I'm hoping this will be a regularly updated story. I know what I want to do with it, I just need to actually write it. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Coming Storm

**A/N: It has come to my attention that not everyone knows the history of WWI so here is a very quick over view of the war. If you are uninterested or already know your history I apologize but I felt it necessary to go over the facts.**

**-****July of 1914 WWI starts however it is several months before fighting actually started****  
****-The first two countries involved were Austria-Hungary and Serbia. Russia, France, and UK backed Serbia while Germany and the Ottoman Empire backed Austria-Hungary**  
**-****April of 1917 The United States enters the war however troops do not arrive in France until July of that year**  
**-December 1917 Russia signs a peace treaty with Germany**  
**-March 1918 Russia officialy leaves war**  
**-March 21 1918 Spring Offensive starts**  
**-6 am November 11 1918 Germany signs Armistice **

**It is important to note that the US did not get involved in the fighting until JULY 1917 but we did not start a campaign until MARCH 1918. The second important note is that Germany DID NOT SURRENDER. They signed an armistice meaning both sides agreed to stop shooting at a designated time. Major battles were fought as late as November 4th and officers were giving orders to attack enemy lines until 11 AM on November 11th. **

**Thanks for dealing with the history spam, I hope you like the chapter!**

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Her legs slid over the sheets. The soft folds and clots rising up to press against her skin. The ripples shifted like the waves of the ocean and her movements were ghosts caught beneath the shifting veil.

She lifted her chest and drew in the scent of her hair as it fanned across her face in pile of unspooled gold thread. It was lemon and warmth, the feeling of the sun on her skins and a soft touch of wind, and just there, somewhere in the locks and curls that soft scent of ocean air.

She pushed her hair away and adjusted to the soft glow of gas lamps that attempted to intrude upon the dark of the sleeping city. The light did little more then to tint that inky blackness to an ugly and shallow grey.

Annabeth ran her eyes across everything she could make out in that soft light, roamed every detail and remembered those too deep within the shroud for her to pick out. She filled her mind with the details of the room, its objects, the way the light shifted with the rotation of their tiny ball of dirt. Anything but that folded piece of paper on her desk. Anything but those erratic scratches, from the lines arbitrarily chosen to mean so much. Lines of colored ink and graphite, such little things that could carry with them the oppressing weight that could rival the deepest of depths.

All stemming from some foolish boy that had inflicted this strain upon her. A boy she wished so deeply could at least be present in the same country if he was to tear from her a resemblance of normality and cohesion.

When he had spoken those ill fated words to her this is not what she had thought would come of her. To be another stricken woman waiting for a man gone off to war. She was not a doting female to stand by and be a fool while others did what they thought she could not handle.

She was far stronger than that.

Yet that simple boy and his simple letter had struck her deeply. He thought it was interesting news, she saw it as graven words.

They were deploying to the front, they would take part in the spring campaign.

In the dark she found her lamp and lit it, pulled the letter open and once again scrutinized its contents.

_May 28th 1918_

_Dear Annabeth,_

_It has only been a week but I knew you would not forgive me if I didn't write you and let you know that we are moving out. We will be apart of the spring campaign and should receive orders soon. _

_No one knows for sure where we are going, Lieutenant Grace admitted that he wont know until it is time for us to start the move. I do know that we are one of several units that will be taking part in the attacks. The French are eager to press the Germans back and get them out of their country._

_The rest of us just want to know what is happening. Curiosity is getting the best of us and it is getting under my skin. We've been waiting too long and need to be doing something. Need to know what is happening._

_I'm trying to get my squad into order and make sure they have everything and will be ready when the orders come through. It feels good to have something to do everyday. I'm glad we are getting orders, it's better than sitting here listening to German artillery all day. _

_My only concern is that we will be moving around too much and be too busy getting prepared for the operation that I won't be able to write home again. I hope you would do me a favor and tell my mother I say hi. Let her know what is going on and tell her I will try and write as soon as I can. Tell her I miss her too, please. _

_I have to get back to my men. Wish me luck in the fight. _

_I got your letter today, thanks for the picture. Though it's made the others start asking if I have a girl back home. Hope you're happy._

_Yours,_

_Percy_

Annabeth pressed the letter flat against her desk. She had kept it perfect, no smudges, no wrinkles, no crumpled edges. She would keep it like that, keep it safe. She raked her eyes over the messy hand writing one last time before crisply folding the letter back up and placing it back in the envelope.

While he may have seen it as an end to boredom she was not as pleased with the new information. He would be part of an attack. He would be in the thick of fighting, he would be shot at. Other men would be trying to hurt him, to kill him. And he acted like it was an opportunity. A break from monotony.

The frustration made its way out as a gritted sigh of discontent. It was too short a letter with too little information. One line, one single sentence was all he made of the picture she had sent him. While his response had not been what her fleeting dreams had imagined it was far better than the worst of the ideas that had come to mind in the time she had sent the letter. A week she had examined and pondered, fretted and worried. All for him to tell her that he hoped she was happy he was catching chaff from his fellow soldiers. He couldn't give her a simple thank you? He couldn't have at least realized that she had done something kind for him, that she had gone out of her way for him. Annabeth feared he was too dense to understand what was going on around him at times. He couldn't even write her a proper letter. Something that had a sentence that resembled 'how are you?' Something that was even approaching common courtesy.

No. She realized this was not about what was contained in the letter. It wasn't about the news of an offensive, everyone knew it was bound to happen. It also didn't hinder on the fact that he would be going into combat, she was not too blind to think that would never happen. It was about everything else that was left out of the letter, not the words or the physical presence of writing.

It was the lack of meaning.

He had written her because he was afraid of what she would do lest she found out he had not been keeping her informed. While that was sweet that he had a respectful fear of her she wanted genuine fear.

Fear that he was leaving her, that he was hurting her. That he had hurt her. Fear of spending time away from her.

She wanted emotion in the letter. Reciprocation of these emotions that kept her awake into the hours of the night. Nights that should be spent dreaming of their days together. More than anything this is what she wished had been in the letter. Some sort of understanding on his part of what that picture really meant.

"No, Percy. I'm not happy. Because you didn't tell them yes, you didn't show it to everyone and claim me as your sweet heart. Because you're not here."

She pushed the envelope and lined the long end up with the edge of her desk closest to her bed and crawled back beneath the sheets.

She stared at that sliver of paper until drowsiness pulled her eyes closed and dragged her to sleep.

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**A/N: Please leave a review and let me know what you think, I'd really appreciate it!**


	4. Chapter 4: The First Shots

**A/N: I'm going to apologize up front for this being a short chapter but it was needed for setting up for future chapters. The next couple chapters should be longer. They will also start to get darker from here on out so this is a heads up. There will start to be more profanity and violent content. **

**Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

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Annabeth clutched the door knob with weary fingers. She kept her eyes closed and attempted to ignore the smell of the hospital that saturated her clothes. She let her emotions from work streak through her mind for one last moment. She had made it rule, when she came home she put all of the days turmoil behind her and sealed them out. She gently pushed open the door and gave a soft smile.

Annabeth change from her uniform into a much more comfortable dress before she started up her record player and sat on the couch. She studied the two letters on the small coffee table in front of her. Both her father and Percy had written her, she only had to decide which to read first.

She settled on her father's letter first. She was sure she would be thinking about Percy's letter the entire time she read but she wanted to put off opening it. That way she had a new letter just a little bit longer.

She read through the pleasantries her father had written. Small talk about his life in California, his work teaching at a university, bits about her half brothers. She knew he avoided what he wanted to really talk to her about. He wanted to talk about the war, he wanted to talk about their failing relationship, he wanted to talk about the dark parts of her life that she wasn't ready to delve into. Not when the person that could make it better was still so far away.

When she had finished the letter she grabbed paper and ink and wrote him back. Better to respond while it was still fresh in her mind, while she had the chance to put off the other letter a little longer.

Finally she broke the seal on the envelope and drew out the single sheet of folded paper. It was terrifying how one thing could contain so much and so little at the same time.

_June 2nd, 1918_

_Dear Annabeth,_

_The Germans have attacked out lines at Belleau Wood. The nearly broke through on our left where our lines met the French. Nico's unit was sent in along with another Marine unit to close the gap. The Germans are ferocious fighters but fight like they are doing math. Too many men get hit or it takes too long and they pull their forces back. _

_Our boys held their positions and let the Germans walk into our guns and ended up pushing them back. The 2nd Battalion ran into some Frenchmen who told them they should retreat and a Captain responded, 'Retreat? Hell we just got here.' The entire division got a kick out of it. Supposedly the 2nd is using it as a war cry. _

_Lieutenant Grace says we'll be attacking in a few days. We can't let the Germans have a bulge in our line and the commanders will want the ground taken back from them. You would probably understand the situation better than me and the Lieutenant seems like he knows what he's talking about so I'll have to take his word. _

_I'm sorry I can't write more but we've been told to watch for more attacks. I'm doing my best to scribble this down in the few minutes I can find. I will continue to write you when I can but I honestly do not know when that will be. If this is going to be a large offensive it may take weeks but I will give up sleep if I have to. I don't want to stop writing you. Please keep writing me, I should be able to get mail often and I know your letters will make me feel better. _

_I hope to hear from you soon. _

_Yours,_

_Percy_

Annabeth broke her rule. She let the day come flooding back into her mind. She saw them, the broken and torn apart men. Bandages wrapped around torsos, arms, and legs. Crimson patches spreading like a mold across a spoiled food. The letters came a week or more after Percy wrote them, so much could have happened in that time. Was he laying somewhere in a cot having nurse wrap more linen around him?

How soon would they get more wounded men, more amputees, more dying boys, more suffering. She thought of the numbers, would there be dozens? Hundreds? The hospital was large and well kept. They could care for hundreds if need be but the thought of that many men coming back so wounded appalled her. What kind of hell would have to be going on in those trenches for so many to be brought so close to death? She knew those in her hospital were just some of the worst wounded and there were many more hospitals both here and in Europe filled with patients like hers.

She shook the thought from her head. She would keep work out, she would not let herself get into this mindset. All it would do is tear her down, rip her mind apart piece by piece until there was nothing but worry and fear. Her sanity forsaken for concern. That wasn't what she wanted.

No, she would focus on the little signs. Like how he asked Annabeth to keep writing him. That her were making him feel better. She reminded herself that he wanted to hear from her again, and soon. Most of all she let herself dwell on that little word at the end. Maybe she read into it too much, maybe she put too much into a closing, maybe she shouldn't focus on it. Yet it was a far better option to put more stock into a word and hope it meant more than to delve into the dark abyss of loss.

She swore she would write him every day. That she would fill pages with her words, tell him about everything she could think of. Even open up to him about the problems with her father. She would do it all so that he could free his mind of the fighting he was in. So that maybe for a few moments each day he could forget where he was and maybe, just maybe, he would truly become _hers_.

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**A/N: As always thank you for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought.**


	5. Chapter 5: Scars and Loss

**A/N: Almost two thousand words, not bad huh? This chapter does have some graphic scenes of injuries. I specifically talk about the effects of Mustard Gas which was a chemical weapon commonly used during WWI. A lot of the scene about the gassed soldiers comes from the painting Gassed by John Singer. **

**I hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you for reading.**

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She knew this was a war, that there was going to be fighting. Annabeth also knew she was a nurse. That meant she would be around the flesh and bone manifestations of the ravages of war. She had signed up knowing this would not be easy, it would not be pretty, it would not spare her feelings.

The first ship loads had made it in the day before. They carried the worst of the wounded. Those who simply would not fight again. Some had lost hands or legs, the lucky only a few fingers or part of a hand or foot, while others were so torn apart the fact that they had made it across the sea was a feat.

Annabeth saw every injury and wound that could be inflicted by every weapon carried into war. There were men who had be caught in explosions, shot, stabbed, cut on barbed wire, burned, hit by shrapnel, kicked by horses, and the gassed.

They by far were the worst.

The walking dead is what a few other soldiers had called them. The gas was a German weapon. They loaded it into canisters and fired them from their artillery to fall in a fog that billowed from the Grim Reaper himself. The doctors had told her how it worked.

It attacked the flesh. It tore at your lungs and nose, stripped away the skin and felt like you were breathing in fire. Any skin exposed blistered and formed boils as if you were being submerged in boiling water. It got into your lungs and tore apart the tissue. A long enough exposure and you became violently ill, but not from the gas. The soldiers would get pneumonia and had to be quarantined. That was the best they could do for the worst of cases. Seal you away so you wouldn't take others.

Blisters and boils could be given treatment with creams and salves. These injuries were little to be concerned about and most medical staff saw such little ailments as a waste of time and effort. There were so many worse wounds the living needed to be treated for. Especially if you were the living gassed.

If it didn't get your lungs then it took your eyes. Lines of men would be marched in, sometime holding a rope and others tied together, with bandages wrapped around hollow and scarred sockets that gaped emptily at nothing.

Annabeth only felt guilt when she saw them. Guilt that somewhere deep inside her a small voice said it was better their eyes had been taken, that eyes that had seen that type of violence did not belong in a civilized world. She would draw back from that voice.

Percy was there, he would see such things and that opinion would damn him. She prayed every time that voice spoke that it would not come to haunt her, come to haunt Percy.

She also knew it was her 'civilized world' that had started the war. That had sent millions of men off to fight. It was 'civilization' that had developed the gas and the machine gun and the bayonet. Civilization was beyond flawed.

These were the thoughts that filled her nights rest. The ideas that shifted into ideas of what the world could be. If the war tore apart everything and leveled all of Europe it would be an opportunity. Civilization could be rebuilt. All of it could be redone and remade. A new world could be built after the ashes had finished burning.

Annabeth would wake with these thoughts in her mind and force them away. Too much would have to burn for that to happen. Too much would have to be lost and there was enough death.

And one of those deaths could be Percy's. Annabeth did the best she could not to dwell on it, not to give into the morbid self pity of wallowing in his loss when he was still here but it was difficult. Days spent around young men in uniform changed every silhouette, every covered figure, every head of black hair into her boy. When she closed her eyes their soft cries, the voices pleading, the out cries, and rambling speech all became his.

She would hover every dying soldier, dote on the most helpless, perform every menial task all in a misguided idea that what she did for these men would be repaid to Percy.

The time between the letters was difficult enough but now that it was because he was fighting she felt as if the weight of worry had shifted from her shoulders and taken place in her lungs.

A letter had come this morning and she had realized its arrival and the arrival of these new wounded men were not coincidence. She had asked one of the wounded who could speak where he had been. He had spoken a name as if it were a beast, one that could reach a long taloned arm across the sea and grasp him once again. French was the language of love, a soft and beautiful sound between lovers. There is no beauty in the words spoken by a man torn from life and pitched into the rolling hellfire of war, no matter what the language is.

Belleau Wood.

She had cringed at the name, with one hand she had gripped at the man's uniform and with the other pressed the letter, so delicately tucked away, against herself. Before that name had been spoken the letter had held hope and promise. Now Annabeth tasted the bile of fear.

When he break came she ran to the nurses lounge and tore at the envelope. Panic nearly took her but she held firm enough to keep from shredding the precious contents. If she could see his writing, read his ramblings, be forced to suffer through a poor excuse of a joke that was his sense of humor she could manage.

Three papers was what she withdrew from that tattered envelope. And never had she felt so relieved and dreadful at the same time.

This was too much. Too much for what he normally wrote, too many words from too many thoughts. And those thoughts were what gave her worry.

She unfolded the sheets of paper and devoured the pencil marks so carelessly scrawled across them.

_June 7th, 1918_

_Dear Annabeth,_

_We launched our first attack yesterday. The French and several American companies attacked a hill on our left. Only two of our companies were in position and they had to take the hill by themselves. They managed to capture it but the Battalion was nearly wiped out. _

_Nine officers and almost all 325 men in the first attack. All for a single hill. I know it's importance, but that is still so many men to lose in a single day. That's not including the French losses._

_Nico was one of them. I found out just before our own attack. It's hard to understand, I had just met him. Just befriended him and he is already gone. He gave me a letter to send to his sister. One I was supposed to send if anything happened, I honestly never thought he would need it. I didn't think I'd actually have to send it but now I'm sitting in my fox hole holding it and wondering how many of these letters are out there? How many other women will receive similar death letters? I pray you never will. _

_Our attack didn't fare much better. Both the 5th and 6th Marines were sent straight at the forests of Belleau Wood. They ordered us to march across a wheat field with bayonets fixed. _

_We advanced straight into German machine guns. They had set up fields of fire and we were torn apart. Being the Marine Corps we kept our lines, we stayed disciplined and it nearly got us killed. They mowed us down Annabeth. Entire squads are gone. _

_A Gunny Sergeant from one of our machine gun companies order his men forward with the words 'Come on, you sons of bitches, do you want to live forever?'_

_I just want to live. _

_We ended up in hand to hand combat by the end. For all the practice and competitions it's not the same. Not even close. They aren't wooden blades, they aren't still in their sheathes. Another man has ten plus inches of steel and he is intent on ending your life with it. You have to do the same and do it first. This wont be a heroes war, it's going to be a mad-man's war. _

_I know now what this war will truly be made of and it will not be pretty._

_The battalion commander was wounded during our attack and he was replaced this morning. Jason made it through and I'm glad of that. He kept us alive during the attack. Our company was a lot luckier than most. It seems officers are getting hit left and right. One company only has one officer left, most others have lost nearly half. In all we lost over thirty officers and a thousand men yesterday, either wounded or killed. _

_Now we are dug in at the edge of the forest. Yesterday's grand achievement was capturing a foot hold. A few yards of ground past the German lines. The officers think of it as a game of football. As long as we move forward everything is acceptable. Even the loss of so many men. _

_We can tell we're deadlocked. One side has to give. Lieutenant Grace came by and told every sergeant to keep their eyes open and expect a counter attack tonight. The Germans have had time to recover and will be coming to take their ground back. _

_They wont get it. Every Marine knows how many men we lost to take it. We all know someone who was hit, who isn't here any more. If the Germans think they can push us off they are going to be disappointed. Good men gave their lives to get us here, Nico gave his life to get us here. I won't forget that. We'll fight. As hellish as this place is and as much as I'd rather be back in New York I'm here to fight. And I know I will. I'll fight for the man next to me or in the next fox hole over. I'll fight for Lieutenant Grace and I'll fight for the Marine Corps. Hell I'll fight for you. _

_The light is fading and I won't be able to see soon. They won't even let us light cooking fires. I'm sorry I wrote so much about the fighting. I know you don't want to hear bad news but I won't hide things from you. You're too important for me to do that. I need to you too much to do that. _

_Thank you for writing me. I don't get the letters every day, they can only get mail to us ever few days. I read one a day and hope I can make it until the next mail call before I run out of letters. It makes waking up every morning that much easier knowing I have more to read from you. I'm glad you are writing with your father more often. I'm also glad you decided to be a nurse. It would make getting hit a lot nicer to see you in that uniform. I know I shouldn't joke like that but can you blame me?_

_Tell our mothers I say hello. Send my regards to your father in your next letter. Tell him I'd like to meet him some day. Any man with such an amazing daughter needs his hand shaken. _

_I'll write you again soon. I promise. I hope you think of me often, at least then I wouldn't be the only one constantly thinking bout the other. _

_Goodnight Annabeth, have sweet dreams._

_Love,_

_Percy_

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**__A/N: As always please leave a review and let me know what you thought. Thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6: Love and Life

**A/N: First off I want to say thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, or reviewed. I really appreciate it. Second I really hope that you all enjoy the chapter, I tried to make it as long and fluff filled as I could. ****  
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**Please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you think. **

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The papers were heralding the news of the battle raging in Belleau Wood. The headlines used words like 'push' and 'advance' while the articles talked of how the Doughboys were giving the Germans hell. Some said that the war was sure to be over by Christmas and while that thought tore at her soul and gave a small gust to the faltering flag of hope she didn't want to dwell on it. December was so many months away.

She had a day off of work and took the chance to read and enjoy not having a constant demand on her shoulders. She walked in the park, enjoyed a few chapters of a book, spent time just studying the architecture of the city.

Annabeth was able to walk confidently, smile at the people she passed on the street, she was able to purely enjoy things. Not since Percy knocked on her door holding his papers had she felt this good. Those following days had been waking terror and the months since he sailed away were a loaded gun. It would have to be dealt with at some point but her fear of getting hurt was still too strong.

Those last two words still flitted through her thoughts but she felt it too soon. That if she pursued where they had come from it they would be drawn back and may never be seen again.

When the day wore thin and she roused herself from the bliss of freedom she made her way home.

Sitting on the floor just inside her door it sat, a piece of litter cast away to be handled by another, waiting her notice.

The slant of the lines and ease with which it was written gave it away.

_June 10th 1918,_

_My Annabeth,_

_You would think we are all fools and I wouldn't blame you. The Germans attacked the night I wrote you the last letter. They thought they could catch us sleeping and sent their troops at us in the dark. They came within yards of our line at some spots and we had to force them back with knifes and fists. The next morning we were ordered to counter attack back and didn't do much better. The Germans are just as dug in as we are. _

_The next day our artillery opened up on the German lines who responded with their own guns. The forest is nearly gone. When a tree is hit by an artillery shell it turns it into a spray of splinters and wood chunks. They call it tree burst and it is terrifying. A thirty foot tree can be turned into thousands of needles that tear into men. The tree topples and can crush others. What's left is a splintered stick that stands a few feet above our heads and reminds us that everything around us can be ripped apart. _

_The forest used to be pretty, at least when men weren't being shot and everything wasn't blowing up. Most of the trees have been hit by shells or rounds. The ground is ruined. Craters and fox holes are everywhere. Those trees that still have leaves look like they are dying. Nothing about this place is pretty anymore. Nothing about it seems peaceful. The quiet is scary, there are too many men with guns for it to ever be quiet. _

_I woke up in the middle of the night and felt wrong. Like something wasn't happening that should be. At first I thought the Germans were attacking again. I had my bayonet ready so quickly. Then I realized what was wrong. No one was shooting. That's why I woke up, because we weren't trying to kill each other for a few moments. _

_1st Battalion launched another attack this morning. At first everything was going well. We thought we might be able to push the Germans back finally. Then they were caught in the machine guns. Every attack is bound to run into them. The Germans set them up in patterns so that every inch of ground has at least two guns trained on it. You can't take a step without being raked by bullets. Yet we keep attacking, the brilliance of it baffles me. _

_Then the Germans started firing gas at them. Because the machine guns aren't enough, because cutting men down in waves isn't effective enough, they think they need to use that damned gas. _

_It's horrible. They know it doesn't kill quickly. They know that it just burns like a living hell. Like you're drinking fire. They don't care. The Germans are sick. I don't know if I can ever really hate them, but the gas makes me want to. _

_It's hard on everyone. The boys in my squad ask me what's going to happen to us everyday. They ask if we have to attack again. They ask if we're going to get relieved, if we are pulling back. I never know what to say to them so I reassure them the best I can. It doesn't help that we are always low on everything. We barely get enough combat rations to stay fed. We can get three meals most days but some aren't cooked. We can't light fires for fear of the Germans spotting us and dropping shells on our heads so we eat cold soup and crackers. _

_Hell we barely have enough ammo to go around. A few men only have twenty rounds a piece. It's nerve wracking to think you have two clips to stop a German attack. After that you have to rely on your bayonet and skill in hand to hand. That scares everyone most of all. Bullets feel a lot easier to dodge then a knife. _

_We're also all filthy. No one has showered in over a week and it's the middle of June. Even in the shade it's warm and we are covered from head to toe in wool. In a few days I think the Germans will be able to smell us out. _

_It's been four days and we haven't moved a foot forward. All we do is wait. Wait for the next shells to land and hope they aren't filled with the gas. Wait for the Germans to attack again, maybe in the middle of the night again. Waiting for order to launch an attack and get shot at or walk into a machine gun. _

_I'm sorry to put this on you. I shouldn't be telling you these things. I should be asking you how you are, writing you about your family and what you're doing with all your free time. _

_I should be telling you not to miss me, that I miss you enough for the both of us. _

_I keep looking at your picture. I guess I'm afraid I'll forget what you look like. Forgetting your smile would be the worst. It was always worth being called an idiot or kelp head if it made you smile. I wish I could see it now. _

_I've been thinking about what I'll do when I get back. I'm not smart enough to attend the university like you will but maybe with your help I start a business. My father always talks about how much they need tugboats in the harbor. I've spent enough time around him to understand how shipping works, I'd just need a boat. And a crew. _

_It's the paperwork and setting everything up I'd really need you for. I'd cut you in on the business. We could be partners. I could captain the boat and you would just have to deal with the books. We could work together. If you want to. I know owning a boat was never your dream. You should be off designing grand buildings. It was just an idea. _

_I hope you're enjoying nursing. Not sure I'm okay with you spending all that time around military men. I know what they're really like Annabeth. Don't let them trick you, not all of them are all white teeth and clean cut. _

_I hope you're sleeping well at night. I try and write as much as I can but I know it isn't enough. You write me everyday and I still wish there was more. You barely get a letter a week. You deserve better, Annabeth. _

_I miss you so much. Every day I wake up and it dawns on me a little more what I left behind. Who I left behind. I'm sorry I left you but I promise I'll make up for it when I come back. _

_I can't wait to see you again._

_Love,_

_Percy_

Annabeth sat against her front door and clutched the letter.

It had been too much to hope for after the last one. Too much to think he would write it again, too much to think it a conscious decision on his part. Now he had written it again, so plainly and openly and there was more.

A page of it. No war, no fighting, no misery. It was a page of her Percy. A page of him writing about them. _Them._

He had written about a future, one he saw both of them in. One that he needed her for. It was a sign and one she would gladly accept. The last few weeks Annabeth had worried that it was just the effects of the war that were wearing on him. That were wearing on her. Now Annabeth knew that it wasn't the war that was changing them, it was the distance.

They had been so close for so long that one of them, both of them, had missed what was happening. Missed the little signs of growing affection in the myriad of layers of close friendship. Somewhere they had shifted away from that simple friendship and not looked back. They had coasted the waters between the lands and given little care of the destination for the journey was pleasant enough. It was only when the boat had to be docked that they realized where they had wanted to go all along.

Annabeth knew Percy would be slow to come around. It would be a matter of time and coaxing before that word was used beyond the confines of a closing but she thought it could happen. That her boy would come home to her, he would grip her tight, and he would whisper that word in her ear.

This was the start of something.

Annabeth sat back against her door with her knees pressed to her chest and gripped the letter tight. She closed her eyes and grinned. An honest, pure and true grin. She was beyond happy, more than content, past giddy.

When Annabeth slept that night she dreamt of him again as she did every night but they dreams were softer. They were memories of the past, days spent together and the ease that came with them. She kept that grin through the night and well into the next day.

It wouldn't finally fade until the next letter appeared.

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**A/N: As always thank you for reading! **


	7. Chapter 7: The First Wound

June 18, 1918

Annabeth,

Grove is dead.

I can't think of another way to put it. I can't think of anything else. My best friend is dead.

We attacked again some time yesterday, I don't remember and don't care. We headed out of our positions towards their lines. Grover was with his squad to my left. They opened fire when we were still a hundred yards out. We tried to get the boys into cover, we were so busy shouting at them. I didn't notice the machine gun.

I couldn't even get to him. He died alone Annabeth, I couldn't get to him.

He was moving between positions and the gun started firing. They caught him in the open. Grover didn't have a chance. He was hit twice, and they kept firing. I tried to get to him. I wanted to help. But I was scared. I was so scared and when I finally got up Jason pinned me down. He was screaming at me, telling me to stay there.

How was I supposed to stay there? How was I supposed to just watch my best friend die? He was calling for me. He kept calling my name and I couldn't do anything. They wouldn't stop shooting.

So I sat in that shit hole and watched. I listened to him crying out and calling for help. I sat in that hole and hid. That's the best I could do for him. He stopped moving and the shooting stopped. That's the last I really remember. I couldn't take it. I couldn't take seeing him laying there. There was so much blood.

I heard yelling and someone pulled me back to our lines. They wouldn't let me get him.

He's still out there as far as I know. Laying out in the dirt. I can't bury him Annabeth. I can't say goodbye.

I broke down and cried. It's the only thing I could do.

Is this what I'm destined for? To sit back and watch my friends die? They killed Nico and Grover. They've killed hundreds of us and our officers don't give a shit. The only thing they care about is if we gained ground. How in the hell are we supposed to move forward when they keep killing everyone?

He's still out there. Just laying there and I can't do anything about it. I can't forgive myself for that. I can't forget that he died calling out for me while I coward in a hole.

I can't sleep. I keep trying hoping maybe it will go away but it doesn't. I just hear him. Even if he isn't screaming I hear him talking and I wake up expecting to see him. What do I do Annabeth? I need you, please. I need you.

Lover,

Percy

Annabeth held the letter and cried. He was half a world away, grieving at the loss of his friend, sitting in a whole while the world crumbled around him and she couldn't help him. Annabeth knew she could write a thousand letters and none of them would do any good. None of them would bring Grover back, they wouldn't fix the damage that had been done, but she would write anyways. Maybe she could help him. If she was honest with him, told him everything, maybe it would distract him.

Annabeth knew it wouldn't really work. She could pour her heart out and bear her soul and Percy would still feel the loss. He would blame himself for Grover's death. Annabeth cried harder. Percy wasn't coming back. The boy who she had waved to as the ship left was gone, buried somewhere in that gods forsaken forest amongst it twisted and splintered trees.

Someone else would come back to her, if at all.

"No," she whispered to herself. "I can't think like that. He will come home, he will come back. He has to."

She closed her eyes and let the letter fall into her lap.

For the first time she really considered him not coming back. What would she do without him? Annabeth had lived most of her life with him at her side and the thought of not having him at all was too much. Her mind didn't want to accept it. Percy had always been there, he had never left her. He was the steady rock in her life and the person she could rely on but if he didn't make it back she would be alone.

Annabeth felt pure terror for the first time in he life.

Nothing compared to this. Not the day he told her he might join up, or the day he showed up in uniform, or the day he left. None of them could compare to this. She had been scared and carried doubt but she had always expected for them to be reunited. Now she doubted everything.

Annabeth realized it could have been Percy that had been hit. Percy could have been caught in the fire of that machine gun. For a brief moment she was glad it wasn't Percy and swallowed the guilt that came from it.

If Percy could have died without knowing how she really felt. She was tired of this, tired of beating around the bush and guessing at what his words meant. Why were they such idiots? She knew she loved him and he needed to know. She had to tell him and do it before it was through a grave stone.

She cried as she wrote. Annabeth told him everything, all the words and emotions she should have expressed before he left if only she had realized them. She told him how sorry she was for his loss, how she wished she could be there for him. That she wished she could take him away from the war but that he had to be strong, that he needed to come home to her. She told him she loved him.

She placed a kiss over her signature and one on top of the seal. She prayed to the gods it would make it to him, that he would find solace in the words.

She prayed he would come home soon.

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**A/N: First off I'm sorry it's been almost a month since I've updated. I have a list of excuses but they don't really matter. I just hope you liked the chapter and the next one should be up relatively soon. **

**As always thanks for reading and please leave a review!**


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